An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 04

...too late to prevent it. His hand held the bottle of body wash, cap removed, against the end of his cock, and as I stroked, he cried out and came. I watched, fascinated as he spurted thick white come into the bottle.

"You didn't!"

"Oh, I did." His knees buckled for a second, and he steadied himself and straightened. Then, casually, he slid from my grasp and swirled the bottle, mixing the body wash with his come. He replaced the cap and set the bottle down on the ledge in the shower. "Just something for you to think about the next time you get clean," he said, and grinned down wickedly at me. "You'll be washing in my come."

My cheeks grew hot and my breath caught in my throat. He lifted me to my feet and unhooked the carabiner holding my wrists together. "Time to get moving! You don't want to be late for work." He rinsed and stepped from the stall. "I have to be going as well. I'll be looking forward to tonight!" He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. I stood flustered, watching him towel himself dry; then he dressed and was gone.

I stood naked and dripping in the middle of the bathroom for a long time, not quite sure what to think or do. In my mind, I heard myself begging him to use my mouth; I felt his hands between my legs, drawing out my orgasm; felt his flesh between my fingers... I was still aroused, and slightly overwhelmed, and not entirely sure how I felt. What would happen after Robert got home-would I still be fucking Jason? Would Robert expect me to continue exhibiting myself to him, or giving my body to him? Did I want that? I hadn't had time to process any of the things that had happened over the last two days, but I couldn't deny how much my body had enjoyed everything that had happened...

The writing was still faintly visible on my breasts and body; he had not quite managed to scrub it all away. I ran my fingers lightly over my skin. The marker I'd used was permanent; the ink was faded but still readable. I shivered and whimpered.

The passage of time eventually prodded me to dry myself off and get on with the business of life. I dressed conservatively, long skirt with blouse and business jacket, what Robert liked to call my "frumpy banker's clothes." I put on the coffee and started making toast, the process distant and mechanical; in my mind, I was still bound on the bed, and the image of myself on my hands and knees, mouth open, would not be shaken. I opened the refrigerator, and my breath caught; the stick of butter I'd used the night before, blunted into a tapered cylinder, had come partly unwrapped, triggering a flood of images of the things I'd done in front of the camera. I felt a twitching, unbidden, between my legs. I heard myself whimper, trying not to think of all the possible reasons Robert had wanted me to save it.

The ruins of the clothing I'd so meticulously shredded from my body last night still lay scattered on the living room floor. I made a mental note to myself to clean up after work, and a small corner of my brain found humor in the incongruity-"well, I need to do some errands, you know, tidy up from ravishing myself in front of an audience last night..."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. The normal, day-to-day business of moving other people's money around, attending staff meetings, reassuring nervous clients, consumed most of my focus-most, but not quite all. Some small part of me was still in the bedroom, and that part kept tugging at the corners of my attention. I kept turning over the things I'd said, simultaneously appalled by them and savoring them. The power those words had to become real, the way being told to beg for something made me want that thing, fascinated me. I caught myself murmuring the words out loud to myself, as I tried to understand their power. "Please, please shove your cock in my mouth, I am a filthy desperate cocksucker, please come in my mouth..." I raised my fingertips to my lips and closed my eyes. "Fuck my mouth, fill it up, don't let me swallow, make me messy..."

My phone chirped to announce an incoming message, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I dropped my fingers from my mouth and stared blankly at the phone for a moment before I flipped it open.

Thinking about you. Can hardly wait for the show tonight. J

Before I could flip the phone shut, it chirped again.

ps you look good covered in come

My pussy clenched and tightened. "Oh, you're good," I said out loud, "you're really getting the hang of this."

It occurred to me to wonder how much he and Robert were talking to each other, and how many of my secrets Jason was privy to. The relationship that had developed between Robert and I had grown slowly, with many missed steps, as we had explored what we both wanted; I'd always had a vague need for something different, and always known that the things everyone else seemed to want from their relationships didn't quite work for me, but it took me a long time to be able to figure out what that need was and to put words to it. And Robert, bless his heart-when we'd first met, he held some charmingly quaint and very frustrating notions about the proper way to treat a lady, and had been quite, quite shocked the first time I asked him to talk dirty to me. It had taken longer still for him to unlearn his fear of hurting me.

Jason, though, was getting the benefit of the accelerated course in ways to get me going. All the things Robert and I had learned over months of systematic experimentation, he was picking up in just a few days; and the idea that there were two men out there who knew and understood my particular tastes, and knew the many secret ways to reduce me to quivering jelly, was delightfully intoxicating. "Oh, yes," I said, stroking the tiny glowing screen of the cell phone, "I am going to give you a show tonight."

The afternoon passed much more slowly. My workload was uncharacteristically light, and my mind wandered to the things I would do in front of the camera that evening. I knew Robert's tastes, though generally he preferred to give me detailed step-by-step instructions about what I was to do during our sessions with the Webcam. Jason, I didn't know as well, and he seemed content to leave me to my own devices rather than telling me what to do. But I knew some things about what he liked, and thinking about how I might use those things brought a flush to my cheeks and a dampness between my legs. Several times, I debated slipping discreetly into the ladies' room and snapping some obscene pictures of myself with my cell phone, to give him a little taste of the evening's entertainment...but no, let him wait, the tension would make the evening so much sweeter.

When the end of the day finally rolled around, I wrestled down the urge to rush home as quickly as humanly possible. I tidied up my office, then lingered in the doorway for a while, making innocent small talk with some of my coworkers, while the hunger grew inside. When I could bear no more, I excused myself politely and headed for my car.

I did not go directly home. Instead, I stopped at a small open-air café for dinner; the simmering sexual tension was too delicious, and I was having far too much fun letting it build. I relished the idea of pushing Jason's buttons over the cam, and wanted to leave time enough to make sure his own tensions were suitably built up before I started.

I ate at a leisurely pace, thinking the whole time about what I might do once I was home. The tension made the world more alive; my senses seemed heightened, and I was acutely aware of everything happening around me-the buzz of conversation, the sound of the passing traffic, the waiter's voice as he took my order. I amused myself with a brief fantasy about him; a minor problem with the bill, the waiter taking me into the back, demanding payment; rough hands on my body, pushing me into a storage closet, ripping open my blouse; him taking me, hard and fast, in the small darkened space, my body pressed against the cold rough wall...

After I'd finished with dinner, I headed to the same grocery store where I'd stopped the day before. The same silver-haired matron who'd rung me up yesterday took my purchases-six boxes of instant vanilla pudding-and frowned and humphed as she placed them in a bag. I smiled pleasantly at her, and received a baleful glare in return, and was on my way.

Once home, I pulled into the driveway and switched off the car. I suddenly regretted dressing so conservatively; I suspected Jason would be glued to his computer, watching the feeds from the cameras in the house, waiting for me, and I wanted him to covet me, desire me, be consumed by his need for me from the moment I walked in the door.

Which he likely would be anyway, of course, but something a little more revealing couldn't hurt.

I shrugged off the jacket and dropped it on the front seat. Now, let's see, I thought, about the rest of it...

I reached under my blouse and unhooked my bra,. A few minor contortions, and I slipped out if it and set it on the front seat next to the jacket. I unbuttoned the top three buttons of the blouse and spread it open, revealing ample cleavage and the rounded swell of the top of my breasts. Much better, that just about has it... I slid my hands over my breasts, and pinched and tugged my nipples, still sore from last night's treatment, until they stood hard against the fabric of the blouse.

Perfect.

Grocery bag in hand, I walked into the house. I brought the boxes of pudding mix into the kitchen without even a glance toward the cameras, took down some mixing bowls and a measuring cup, and started mixing the pudding.

I could feel the camera in the kitchen staring at my back as I worked. I thought about Jason watching me, wondering what I was doing, horny and frustrated and impatient for his show, and smiled to myself. In truth, I was also horny and frustrated and impatient, and it took all my willpower not to look at the camera.

Three of the boxes of pudding I mixed in a large bowl. The fourth I mixed in a much smaller bowl; the last two, in two tall glasses. To the pudding in the glasses I added much more milk than the directions called for, creating a thick, liquidy goo. It took a bit of trial and error to get the consistency I wanted, and I experimented with the mixture until I had it just right.

I put the pudding in the refrigerator to set, then came out into the living room and swept up the scraps of the clothes I'd worn last night. I set up my laptop in the middle of the coffee table, then rummaged in the toy bag still sitting on the floor next to the couch. I drew out a single object-a squat, thick dildo with a rubber tube leading from its base to a hand pump-and placed it on the coffee table next to the computer, then closed up the toy bag and carried it, humming, into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, I stood in front of the dresser with my back turned to the camera, and stripped quickly and efficiently. Still facing away from the camera, I slid into a simple white terrycloth bathrobe, and tied it closed before turning around. Every motion was calculated to frustrate Jason still more, to make him increasingly impatient to see me do something interesting.

I returned to the kitchen to check on the pudding. It had set in the time I'd been busy, so I placed the bowls and glasses, and a single spoon, on a large silver serving tray and carried it into the living room. I placed the tray on the end table next to the sofa, then looked around one last time, still not looking directly at any of the cameras, or even acknowledging them at all. Nope, still not quite ready...

I swept out of the living room and returned with a large beach towel, which I placed carefully over the sofa. There. I took a deep breath. Last chance to change your mind...

It wasn't true, of course. I already knew what I was going to do, even though the idea made my heart skip a beat.

I sat down on the sofa and opened the laptop. A few quick commands, and I was logged into the server. One user active, it said. Good old Jason; he really couldn't wait.

A couple more commands, and I activated the camera in the laptop and turned on its feed. The camera in the corner of the living room gave a good overall shot; I wanted him to be able to get closer, too, if he wanted to.

I brought up a window on the laptop so I could watch myself from the camera's perspective, and see what Jason was seeing. When everything was in place, I looked directly into the tiny lens and smiled.

"Hello, Jason," I purred. "I bet you can't wait to see me start doing dirty things to my body, can you? I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little bit longer, though. Right now, I just want to watch TV and eat some pudding." I set the small bowl of pudding in my lap, picked up the remote for the TV, and flipped it on. I curled up and leaned back on the sofa, making myself comfortable, and looked past the camera in the laptop at the television. I flipped through the channels until I found some sitcom or other, and ate a spoonful of pudding.

"You know," I said casually, "I have a confession to make." My breath caught in my throat, and my heart started hammering; I could feel a slow, prickly heat rising on the back of my neck. I tried to keep my voice level, casual, as if I was talking about the weather. "I really liked begging for your cock this morning. That really got me going. Next time, if you really want to make me frantic, you should keep me begging for a lot longer." I took another spoonful of pudding to steady myself, and went on. "By the time you let me have it, I was starting to get worried that maybe you weren't going to give it to me, and oh, my God, I needed it bad." You are giving yourself away, the still small part of my mind said, you're telling him how to get past your defenses, my God, you're asking him to humiliate you...

Another spoonful of pudding. "Mmm, this is really good pudding," I said. I lay back further on the couch, with the bowl of pudding between my breasts, and took another spoonful. "By the way, you ran off this morning before I could thank you for giving me what I asked for. Thank you for coming in my mouth, Jason." The still small part of my brain recoiled in shock from what I was saying. My hands shook; I scooped up another spoonful of pudding, but it fell from the spoon before it reached my mouth, and landed with a splat on my neck.

I sat up and looked at my image on the laptop. "I'm making a mess," I said. I scooped the pudding off my neck with my fingers, then licked them clean. "Guess if I'm going to eat dessert on the sofa, I should try not to get my robe all messy." I untied the belt and slid the robe off my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts to the camera. I sat back in the sofa again and took another spoonful of pudding. No, you are not going to do this, you are not going to defile yourself just so this man can get his jollies...

I shoveled another large spoonful of pudding in my mouth, so quickly that some of it fell from the spoon and fell splat on my breast. I scooped it up with my fingers and licked it off, swirling my tongue around and between my fingers. "Mmmm, I can't seem to stop getting messy." I tossed the spoon over my shoulder, and it fell with a thunk behind the sofa. "I might as well not even use a spoon."

I dipped a finger into the bowl and raised it to my lips. I traced my lips lightly with the tip of my finger, spreading a small amount of pudding on them. "Did you like watching me lick your come off my lips this morning? Did it get you hot to see how much I wanted you to use my mouth?" I closed my eyes and licked my lips. "I liked tasting your sweetness on my lips." My left hand idly caressed my breast. "If I knew how much you like seeing it all over me, though, I wouldn't have been so greedy and swallowed it all."

I leaned forward and scooped up some more pudding on my finger. "And how about watching me take your cock in my mouth? Did that turn you on?" I parted my lips and wrapped them around the tip of my finger, then slowly, very slowly, slid my finger deep into my mouth. The blob of pudding leaked from the corner of my mouth and fell wetly on my breast.

I slipped my finger from my mouth, and pushed it into the glob of pudding on my breast. "This pudding is very slippery," I said. "I bet it would feel good if I spread it all over your cock." I scooped up more pudding from the bowl, using two fingers this time, and rubbed my fingers and thumb together. "It's really slippery." I ran my fingers over my nipple, and sighed as it came erect. "That feels good." I took my nipple gently between my fingers and stroked. "You like watching me do dirty things to my body, don't you, Jason?"

I dug four fingers into the bowl and scooped out a large helping of pudding, then opened my mouth and pushed my fingers deep inside. I scooped up more pudding and shoved my fingers into my mouth again, taking them all the way to the back of my throat. "Mgfh!" I said, a small strangled noise, and coughed slightly; pudding escaped my lips and dribbled down my chin.

I scooped more pudding on my fingers and into my mouth, filling it. Then I dug the last of the pudding out of the bowl, and set empty bowl aside. I ran my fingers over my breasts, smearing them thickly. I caressed and fondled my gooey, slippery breasts with both hands as I leaned back in the sofa with eyes closed. I replayed the morning in my mind, remembering the taste of his warm come flooding my mouth, the feel of it sliding wet and thick down my throat. I swallowed the pudding in my mouth, fantasizing that it was his come. I could almost taste it, the salty muskiness...

That rational part of my brain looked at me from its faraway place, aghast. Look at you! You really are becoming a come slut! This man used your mouth for his own pleasure, and now all you can think about is more come! He wants to make you BATHE in come, for God's sake!

A hot flush of shame took me, and with it came a dizzying, intoxicating arousal. Yes, I am, and I like it. I opened my mouth to speak.

Oh no, you are not going to say it, you are not going to give him the satisfaction, that voice in my head said, no way...

I twisted my nipples hard. "Ohhggh God!" I cried, a part of me startled by my own ferocity. I opened my eyes, panting, and stared directly at the camera. "Oh, God, I want your come! I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I think about you gushing in my mouth." My face turned hot and red, shame and humiliation filling every pore of my being. "I thought about it at work this morning, and I'm thinking about it now. I am such a filthy come-guzzling slut, it's all I can think about. I want it in my mouth and on my body and dripping from every part of me, I want you to pour your come on me. Do you like that? You like seeing what you've done to me?" My hands slid, messy and slick, down my body. I drew off the belt from the robe and rose, sliding the robe off and kicking it away. "I'm going to make myself so messy for you, I'm going to show you how much I want your come."

I breathed hard, raggedly, scarcely able to believe I was saying these things. I picked up one of the tall glasses, unsteadily, and raised it to my lips as I sat back down. I tilted the glass sharply and poured the thick milky fluid into my mouth, so fast that it spilled from the corners of my mouth and flowed down my neck, coursing in little rivulets over my breasts and down my body. When my mouth was completely filled, I set down the glass and ran my hands over my body, from my neck down over my breasts, then over my belly and smooth-shaven mound. I spread my legs wide and slid my hands over my inner thighs. Then I looked directly into the unwavering gaze of the camera and slowly, deliberately, parted my lips.